Where Would I Be?
by Abagail Snow
Summary: After Michael is promoted to corporate, a new regional manager is put in his place... JAMensemble
1. Prologue

A/N: Al right my first Office fic. It takes place some time after _Casino Night_ and is like an alternate Season 3 premiere. It's mainly JAM, but this chapter especially, incorporates the entire office. Title after Cake song "Where Would I Be?"

**Where Would I Be?**

_Prologue_

"I got a promotion," Michael says to the camera, gesturing his arms widely at the packed up boxes in his office. "Jan was promoted to CEO of Dunder Mufflin, and accordingly her next of kin was given the boot right up to corporate," he says gruffly hooking his thumb towards his face. "But don't worry all, I will be making numerous guest appearances. Some would say 'celebrity' guest appearances," he emphasizes with air quotes.

"Michael is leaving this week," Ryan the temp says slowly, "and he seems to be under the impression that we're going to miss him… a lot."

Ryan stands in the break room waiting for his coffee to finish brewing and is caught off guard when Michael wraps his arms around him tightly. He cries into his back, "I'm going to miss you so much buddy." Ryan gradually turns to the camera wide eyed.

"I'm not sure exactly how Michael got promoted," Pam says. "It might have something to do with Jan playing favorites, but I rather not theorize too much on that one."

"Do you know who his replacement is?" The camera man asks reading off a list of questions the producers requested.

"His replacement?" Pam repeats, "I don't think they've hired one yet. I haven't gotten any faxes from corporate about it. I'm just really hoping that it isn't Dwight. He seems to think that since he was the top seller and is assistant regional manager that he automatically gets the job." Pam freezes a look of horror plunging across her face. "Oh my God, he does, doesn't he?"

Dwight sits at his desk with his chin held a little higher. He holds a name plaque that reads "Assistant Regional Manager" and covers the word "Assistant" with his hand. He removes his hand and with a karate like sound effect, covers it again proudly.

"Are they planning a big 'Going Away Party' for me?" Michael begins still in his office. "I prefer to think of it as a 'Congratulations Michael, We're so Glad Such Great things Happen to You, You'll Always be Our Favorite Boss, and Our Best Friend' party. But that doesn't really fit on a banner, so yes, they are planning a 'Going Away Party.'"

Kevin throws a pile of papers into the recycling bin.

Pam types and e-mail from her desk.

_Jim,_

_Today is Michael's last day. He keeps on walking around and getting all teary eyed as giving these super cheesy speeches. I'm almost afraid he'll change his mind and stay. Dwight seems suicidal, yet hopeful. I'm terrified that he'll get promoted and take Michael's position. Imagine the power trip he'd get off that one. We'll have Lord of the Rings Friday's and work during Christmas!_

_Hope you're having fun!_

_Pam_

Every so often her eyes drift up across the office towards his desk before she glances over her shoulder at the camera and quickly closes the window. It's been a while since the cameras have been around and she's having a hard time getting reacquainted with their presence. Usually the crew only takes a hiatus during the summer but because of budgetary reasons, namely Chili's taking away their endorsement, the cameras haven't been around for the past six months.

"So where's Jim?" The camera man asks Pam, reading off another assigned question.

Pam's face drops for a moment before she finally collects her thoughts. "Jim transferred to the Stamford branch about six months ago. They were offering him better pay, I think they actually made him head of sales over there. So good for him, you know?" She smiles sadly.

"Do you still keep in touch?"

"Um," she presses her lips together tightly wringing her fingers together. The camera dips down to catch this and notices that there aren't any rings on her fingers. "I e-mail him every once and a while, but they keep him really busy over there."

"And how was the wedding?" The cameraman asks.

It's obvious that as much as Pam was expecting this question to be asked, she still isn't ready to answer it and the cameraman suddenly feels terrible for asking. "Roy and I decided that we needed to try being single for a while. A wedding isn't entirely out of the question," she adds. "You'll just have to wait after another three year engagement," she smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes.

She remembers the night it was over. The night when she came home when Roy was already in bed and he asked her how her night was and she couldn't look him in the eye. She remembers stepping up to her dresser and trying to brush out the feeling of Jim's fingers in her hair because it might help her forget the way her heart swelled in her chest when he told her that he loved her. It wasn't hard for Roy to realize something was wrong. Not when she burst into tears and wouldn't turn to face him.

"What the hell happened?" He asked.

She remembers the time he left during her boss's stupid award show and how they argued because he didn't ask her what she wanted. But this time he told her he was exhausted, asked if she wanted to come with him or if she was just going to catch a ride later. It made her so happy that he cared about what she wanted to do.

And then the tears came more fiercely. "What's wrong baby?" He asked wrapping his arms around her waist.

She tightened then, her entire body turning to stone. "Jim," she said simply.

And suddenly it all made sense. Roy took a step back, "What did he do to you?"

She brushed a tear off her cheek before folding her arms protectively across her chest. "He told me he loved me," she said.

The words were real and biting, and all Roy could do is nod.

"And then he kissed me and…" she trailed off before their eyes met.

"And what?"

"I didn't stop him."

"What happens now?"

The next morning Roy called the church to see if they could get their deposit back.

It was that Monday Jim told her he was transferring to Stamford. He had gone to corporate a few times already that month and all the paperwork was taken care of and his last day at the Scranton branch would be that Wednesday. She listened wordlessly, waiting for the words to finally sink in. He gave her more details about why he was leaving, but she knew it was because of her.

She called in sick Wednesday too afraid to say goodbye. And on Thursday she stared at his desk until 5:30.

The wedding was postponed indefinitely that weekend. The zero hour was too close for them to take that leap with so much on their plate.

Roy moved out mid-June. She couldn't give him her whole heart. He had always thought that since he was her first and only love that there would never be a problem in their relationship. Maybe that was why he got lazy, maybe that's why she fell in love with somebody else while he wasn't looking.

"No, I haven't told Jim about Roy," she confirms. "I just didn't want to bother him with my life when he's busy settling into his."

Kevin frowns at the camera, "The Roy/Pam wedding fell through for us," he says. "We still got paid though. So that was nice."

The party planning committee gathers in the conference room as Angela scans through a list of demands for the upcoming celebration. Ryan is the last to enter and looks around the room bewildered before taking a seat at the far end of the table.

"Michael has a very elaborate surprise party planned," Angela begins. "He wants the decorations to be in his favorite color," she continues. "Does anybody know what Michael's favorite color is?"

The women and Ryan all look at each other dumbfounded. "I'll go ask Dwight," Pam offers.

"He would also like a mint chocolate chip ice cream cake that says: Thanks for the Laughs and the Memories," Angela can't help but roll her eyes. "The rest of this list is just ridiculous," she says sliding the paper out of her sight.

Kelly picks it up, "Magician? Drew Barrymore? A flyby plane with the banner "We Lo—" Angela snatches the paper back with an iron glare.

"Am I sad that Michael is leaving?" Kelly asks the camera. "Um…" her gaze drops as she rocks in her chair subtly.

Meredith drops a folder on Stanley's desk before glancing at the camera. She coughs and walks back to her desk.

Pam is at her desk typing something on her computer. She is at the Map Quest website, and as the camera zooms in on her monitor the word "Stamford, CT" is typed into the search box. Pam catches the lens over her shoulder and quickly switches windows to a game of FreeCell.

The phone beeps and she presses the hold button, "Yes Michael?" She asks with as little aggravation as possible.

"Pam, do you realize this is the last time I'm going to buzz you?" He says, his voice thick with tears.

"Somehow I doubt that," she says turning her attention back to her game.

"What was that?" He asks defensively.

"Nothing. What do you need?"

"Just wanted to say 'hi,'" he says.

"Hi, Michael," she says before turning off the speaker. She sighs looking through her possible moves. The phone beeps again. "Yes Michael?"

"Do you realize that _this_ is the last time I'm going to buzz you?"

"Do you promise?" She groans.

"No."

Pam rolls her eyes and turns off the speaker again.

The phone beeps. "Yes, Michael?" She asks now unable to hide her annoyed tone.

"Do you realize that _this_ is the _last_ time I'm going to buzz you?"

"Look Michael, I'm really busy."

"Yeah," he pauses, "okay then."

She releases a relieved sigh moving a couple of cards. The phone beeps again and Pam almost screams. Instead she pulls the phone chord out of the wall. A moment later Michael is peering out his blinds at her. He glares and shakes his head slowly. Pam drops her shoulders in defeat and plugs the phone back in.

The phone beeps.

"I liken my employees to my children," Michael begins. He sits in his chair behind a cleared desk. "Well not so much children as god-children." He presses his lips together and leans his elbows against his desk. "Hmm…" he lowers his voice thoughtfully. "Maybe the children metaphor wasn't the exact angle I was going for." He looks off in the distance, "Yeah…"

Creed is sleeping while sitting up. He chokes a little and quickly wakes up. After looking around the office he dries his chin before falling back asleep.

Dwight rushes into Michael's office. "Question," he begins, "will I be accompanying you to corporate?"

"No, Dwight," Michael says. "I'll be given a new assistant and even so… no."

"Question," Dwight continues. "Will I be given your job?"

"No Dwight, you're not going to be my replacement," Michael says with a hint of disgust. "Corporate is looking through all of their branches for the best candidate."

"So I'll get the job," Dwight raises his brows suggestively, "right?"

"No, Dwight."

"If I could take my employees with me I would definitely," Michael tells the camera. "I would take them all, you know. When it's a family you don't leave anyone behind. Except in that movie _Home Alone_, they left a kid behind. But I love everyone so I'd take them all with me. Except for Dwight… and Toby."

"Am I going to miss Michael?" Toby asks looking up from his desk. "No, not at all."

"I was placed in charge of getting Michael a gift," Ryan says uncomfortably to the camera. "And I have no idea why." He scratches his head. "They have gift certificates to McDonald's right? I'll probably just get him one of those."

Michael steps up to Pam's desk and taps his hand against it. "I am going out to lunch this afternoon, so hold down the fort while I'm gone." He quickly adds, "Or whatever you have planned this afternoon, feel free to go forward with you planning."

"You mean your surprise party?" Pam asks dully.

"Oops," Michael says covering his ears with his hands, "I heard nothing! I promise!" He laughs loudly.

"Based on the general attitude from our last few parties, I've decided that usually I just have to step in and put things in my own hands," Michaels says as he walks to his car. "Casino Night was a huge success. Huge! The Christmas Party, I still have people coming up to me and thanking me for that one. And the 06-06-06 party? Well that one was kind of scary, but it was for Satan, so really what can you expect? And who planned those events? Angela. But who fixed those events? Michael Scott did." He smiles proudly as he unlocks his car. "Look at her track record. Meredith's birthday? Lame. Jim's goodbye party? Could have been good if everyone would stop crying. Some people have party planning skills and some don't. I pride myself in never asking myself 'What can I do?' rather asking myself 'What _can't _I?'" Michael pulls into the parking lot of a strip mall and steps into a liquor store.

At the office Angela stands up, "Everybody, I need you to sign Michael's card, so could you all pass it around quickly and make sure your name is on it?"

Phyllis approaches Angela cautiously with a large box. "The bakery screwed up the cake order."

"What?" Angela snaps.

"They put the wrong message on the wrong cake," she says timidly.

"Well what does it say?"

Phyllis opens the box. The cake reads: Happy 8th Birthday Michelle!

Angela drops her face into her hand. Kevin peeks over the edge of the box, "At least the name is sort of close."

"Not now Kevin."

Pam opens up her e-mail and sees a new message in her inbox.

_Pam,_

_Comfort Dwight for me. Then kill him._

_-Jim_

A huge smile spreads across Pam's face before she answers the ringing phone.

Ryan drops an envelope on Angela's desk, "I got the gift."

Angela inspects it before glaring at him, "McDonald's?" She huffs grabbing the card off Stanley's desk and shoving the gift certificate in the envelope.

"I don't necessarily like party planning," Angela tells the camera. "I'm more accustomed to planning church events. I recently did the nativity scene for Christmas Eve mass. I had to cut out Jesus though, the baby wound up getting the chicken pocks." She pauses, "And Mary… she was sleeping with the angel."

"Michael's on his way up," Pam announces.

Dwight narrows his eyes at her, "How do you know."

"Because he called to let me know," she answers.

The elevator dings and Michael comes through with a crate. "Surprise!" He yells.

"Surprise," is his unenthusiastic response.

"Who died in here?" He jokes, "Besides Carl the janitor," he looks at the camera choked up, "may he rest in peace."

"Surprise, Michael," Dwight runs up to him snatching the card from Angela on his way. "We got this for you."

Angela places her hands on her hips and shakes her head at Dwight. He smiles sweetly and her face softens.

Michael sets the crate on Pam's desk. "Ooo a gift!" He says. "And a card! Let's see what everybody has to say to Mr. Scott now that he's not their boss anymore."

"Technically you're still our superior though." Dwight corrects.

"Yeah, but not your direct superior, I'm a part of corporate."

"Yeah, but you still control whose employed, who isn't, and other jurisdiction within this company," Dwight adds.

"You know what?" Michael rips open the card, "Let's just read this." He looks at the certificate, "$45.89 to McDonald's… great."

Ryan loosens his tie, "Yeah, the sales tax sort of messed up the round number." There's a McDonald's cup at the top of his waste basket.

"Thanks," he says flatly. "And now the card," he says with higher spirits. "Congratulations on Your Success," he reads before turning to the camera. "Because I have been promoted, this could be considered a successful move." He opens the card. "Let's get to some messages…" his face falls. "And all we've got is signatures. Come on guys!" He shouts. "Real creative guys," he drops the card on Pam's desk. "Real creative." He picks up the crate, "On an actual good note, I come bearing gifts as well!" He pulls out a handle of Vodka, "And don't say corporate doesn't allow it because you're looking at him!"

Meredith dances wildly around the office. Kelly sits on the edge of Ryan's desk as he slowly rolls away in his chair.

Todd Packer enters shouting, "Look who's finally off his knees, pansy!"

Michael embraces him in a hug yelling, "Packer!"

Angela and Dwight argue in the kitchen. "He always does this and you just let him!" She complains.

"Don't worry," he glances over his shoulder before quickly retracting his hand. "Soon I will be in charge and everything will be different." He drops his voice to a hush whisper, "Everything."

"Do I consider myself a good boss?"

Toby toasts drink towards a banner reading "Bon Voyage, Michael!"

"Not at all."

Meredith slips a handle into her purse.

"I consider myself a great boss."

Creed slips a large chunk of cake into his briefcase.

"I've been doing it for five years now, how could I not be?"

Pam wanders over to her desk and notices a fax in the printer tray.

"I liken myself to Tony Danza. Because really, I'm not just the boss, I'm the family."

Picking up the fax she sees the Dunder Mifflin header to the attention of Michael Scott.

_Michael,_

_As you know the board has voted on who will replace you as regional manager for the Scranton branch. After reviewing top sellers of all the Dunder Mifflin branches, we have selected Jim Halpert of the Stamford, Connecticut branch. Thank you for your input on this decision. We look forward to seeing you in New York on Monday._

_Signed,_

_Jan Levinson_

_CEO Dunder Mifflin Paper Company Inc._

_New York, NY_

"Of course I'm a good boss," Michael laughs. "They promoted me, didn't they?"


	2. Dunder Blunders

**Where Would I Be?**

_Chapter One: Dunder Blunders_

Dwight enters the office and places his jacket on the coat rack. Turning towards his desk he narrows his eyes. "Why are all my things on Jim's old desk?" He demands to nobody in particular. Pam drops her head with a giggle.

"Today is Jim's first day back," Pam says cheerfully. "I haven't seen him in six months so of course I'm excited to see him."

"Jim is 25 years old, I am 48. He has been in this business for 6 years, I have for 25. I have a college degree, I have no idea what schooling Jim has had." Stanley drones, "Jim is my superior,"

"I am so glad Jim is coming pack," Kelly begins. "He's so laid back and cool, he's going to make the best boss ever. Plus he's like my best friend. I tell him everything and he's such a good listener." She looks off thoughtfully, "But his advice usually sucks."

"Who's Jim?" Creed narrows his eyes.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Dwight says. "No way would they promote my subordinate over me." He shakes his head, "No. Way."

Dwight sits down at his desk. There's a box of Jell-o on his mouse pad and when he picks it up for further inspection the words "I'm Back" are written in sharpie on the back. He looks over at reception where Pam is biting back laughter.

"No. Way."

"Every week we try to make some progress with you know financial reports and things," Oscar begins. "But every week Michael gets us roped into some topical program or office party, so we never get anything done. We were optimistic that with Michael gone we would finally be able to you know… work, but we received a fax from corporate requesting educational seminars every Tuesday and Thursday. And get this, the speaker will always be Michael Scott."

"Good afternoon ladies and girls," Michael says hauling a cardboard box of supplies. "I know I'm a day early for our first installment of Dunder Blunders, but I thought I'd give you an introductory course in what this program is, so we can dive right in for our first lesson."

"Dunder Blunders is kind of a working title," Michael begins to the camera. "I really wanted to circumvrent blunders in the office by sort of placing the employees within these blunderous scenarios, because really the only way you learn a lesson is through making a mistake. This is something I've been wanting to do for a long time, and now that I'm up in corporate I finally have the tools to go out and get the job done." He frowns, "Of course two hours is a bit of a commute, but it's well worth it for our employees to be fully trained and prepared for the work place, even if it means missing meetings in New York twice a week." He pauses, "Maybe I should have run this past Jan first…"

"Question," Dwight says raising his hand.

Michael rolls his eyes, "Yes, Dwight?"

"Is Jim Halpert really replacing you as regional manager?"

"Yes Dwight."

Dwight narrows his eyes, "I'm not on _TV's Bloopers & Practical Jokes_ am I?" He asks looking suspiciously around the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about Dwight, and no. My hermano Jim will be back some time this afternoon, which is another reason I'm here: for the party."

"We actually have a lot of deadlines coming up," Pam speaks up. "So we weren't really planning on throwing a party at work, per se."

Michael looks dumbfounded at first, but quickly settles on incredulous, "What exactly do you mean by no party?"

"We were going to go out for drinks or something," she explains. "After work."

"After work, hmm…" Michael cringes. "I really should get back to New York for that important budget meeting tomorrow, but Jim's a good friend so I'll make an exception. Drinks at Chili's I presume, I'd love to join you if you'll have me."

"Sure," she says tightly.

"We were planning on meeting outside of work because we knew Michael would come back." Pam explains, "And nothing against Michael, really. He's just very often a mood killer." She nods, "I did neglect to tell Michael we were going to Applebee's though, because the crew highly insisted we go to Applebee's instead of Chili's." She lowers her voice, "I think it's because of the endorsements."

"Today's lesson is learning," Michael begins thoughtfully. "And if you step out of this conference room today with that simple thought in your head, I have succeeded, because you have learned something."

"If Michael isn't fired in the next few weeks," Toby says, "I would be very, very surprised."

Meredith adjusts a picture frame on her desk.

"I was in charge of getting Jim's welcome back gift," Pam begins, "and I had a really hard time because there were just so many ideas I wanted to run with. But, I settled on these goodies," she says lifting a bag onto the conference room table. "We have 'Managing for Dummies' because in the fast paced world of Dunder Mifflin, he'll need all the help he can get. 'Truly Tasteless Jokes' so he can carry on Michael's legacy. A six-pack of coke so he'll always be able to communicate effectively. And a spy kit because we used to joke that Michael thought he was a detective and how the manager always doubled as a PI—it's hard to explain."

"Do I think Jim will make a good boss?" Ryan stares blankly for a moment. "Maybe. Probably not though."

Jim enters the office; his jacket is thrown over his arm, and his bag hanging loosely on his shoulder. His hair is cut shorter and his face looks leaner. He spots Pam and a warm smile spreads across his face, quickly his eye catches the camera and his face falls shyly.

Clearing his throat he steps up to reception. "Hi I'm the new regional manager, I was wondering if you could direct me to my office," he says.

Pam looks up and jumps out of her chair, "Jim! Hey!"

"Why did I come back?" Jim says to the camera and laughs, "If you saw the pay increase, you'd understand." He clasps his hands together, "But honestly, I sort of missed this place, even Dwight. I uh – I wasn't in the best place when I left, but I went to Australia and had an amazing time. And things are great now," he nods, "just great." He looks around for a moment and then shakes his head, "I didn't really miss Dwight."

Pam runs around her desk and throws her arms around him. They hug briefly before Pam backs away timidly. Jim drops his head and clears his throat again.

"What about the wedding?" He narrows his eyes sitting forward in his desk chair. "I haven't heard anything about it." Jim scratches behind his ear casually. "I may have filtered any message that contained the word 'Pam' to an e-mail address I forgot the password too." Over his shoulder, Jim tries to access an account. The message "Forgot your password?" Keeps coming up, the hint is 'tulips.' Jim sits back in his chair frustrated. "It did wonders preventing SPAM," he explains before furrowing his brows, "sure I might have missed a couple of important messages, but I never really read those Monty Python newsletters anyway." He seems thoughtful for a moment before looking back to the cameraman repeating, "What about the wedding?"

"Nothing, never mind," the guy says.

"Weird?" Pam asks. A flood of insecurities seem to strike her face before she frantically begins to shake her head. "No it wasn't weird at all." She stops and frowns. "Why do you ask?"

Dwight glares as Jim walks into Michael's former office. He picks up his name plaque and covers the word 'Assistant.' He nods approvingly. "Two weeks," Dwight says from the conference room interview. "I give corporate two weeks before they recognize their mistake."

Jim is startled when his desk chair begins to spin around slowly. Michael is sitting at his old desk staring gravely. "Wow, hey Michael," Jim says dryly. "Was not creepy at all," he mutters under his breath.

"What was that?" Michael asks narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing, I thought you were in New York?" Jim shakes off.

"Had to properly hand down the reigns," he says holding an invisible rope that he pulls tightly with the assistance of a fake horse cry.

"Not entirely necessary."

"This moment, will be the most important moment of your life," Michael begins. "More important than your wedding day, your first child's birth, way more important than the second…"

Jim ducks his head with a silent "wow."

"When you're great grand child sits in your lap and says," Michael quickly cocks his head sweetly and lifts his voice to a squeaky child, "'Old man, what's your best memory?'" He adjusts his voice to normal, "You'll look down and say:" Enter cranky old man: "Who the hell are you?"

Jim nods, "Because of the Alzheimer's," he reasons to himself. "Obviously."

Michael cocks a brow, "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Jim pretends to swipe a tear from his eye. "So true."

Michael starts to laugh, "You fag—," he looks off at the camera in the window and makes a noise as if the wind were knocked out of him. "—grantly sensitive man you."

"I believe the word is 'flagrant,'" he corrects.

"That's what I said," Michael counters tightly.

"The reason I got promoted," Jim begins to the camera, "or so I've been told at least. Is because I saved the Stamford branch from needing to be downsized—a stretch I know. I mean with all the insurance agencies up there it really wasn't that hard to sell paper to a company." He pauses tilting back his head wistfully, "The real reason? They didn't want Michael in direct contact with their employees because he had offended so many people. Sure they could have just fired him, but yeah…" he trails off pressing his lips together his eyes widening in confusion. "I guess more power and a pay increase is what they opted for instead."

Pam stares at Jim's office door tapping her pen against her desk aimlessly. She looks through the messages on her desk and quickly gathers a few before heading over to his office.

"Hi," she says shyly holding the messages close to her body.

Jim raises his brows in pleasant surprise. "Hey."

She bites back her lower lip and then steps forward. "These messages came for you this morning."

"Thanks," he says taking them from her and leafing through them.

"And if you're not busy or anything, we were all planning on going out tonight," she quickly adds. "Mainly for you, that is. Dinner and some drinks at Applebee's," she holds her arms out with a shrug, "our treat."

Jim twiddles a pen between his fingers and nods, "Definitely. Sounds excellent."

"Good. We'll probably go straight from work, is that good for you?"

"Perfect."

She continues to stand in the door and he looks at her curiously, "Anything else?"

"I just," she wrings her fingers together nervously. "Um… I was going to…" she glances at the camera and then shakes her head, "never mind, I'll talk to you later."

Jim narrows his eyes, "Okay."

Pam turns on her heels and heads back towards her desk. Jim watches after her for a long moment. His eyes again catch the camera and he drops his gaze back to his messages.

Kevin sits at his desk eating a muffin. He squints his eyes and picks at something allusive from where he had just taken a bite. After much struggle, he gives up and takes another bite.

"Gather round everybody, gather round," Jim says stepping out of his office. "It's mandatory that I give some sort of little speech so Stanley if you can put that call on hold for 30 seconds, that would be fantastic." He claps his hands together and looks around at the familiar faces. "So, for those of you who neglected to learn my name during the six years I worked here, I'm Jim Halpert. I spent some time over at the Stamford branch and now I'm back here, my favorite color is green, and I enjoy Nacho Cheese Doritos. Any other questions, you can direct towards my assistant," he said nodding towards Dwight, "and I'll get back to you right away."

"I am not your assistant," Dwight says without looking away from his computer monitor.

"I am not his assistant," he repeats from the conference room interview for more clarification.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam," she says from reception. "And may I ask whose calling?" She frowns, "Hold please." Taking a deep breath she switches lines.

"Yes?"

"Jim, Lisa Krandberg to speak with you."

There's a pause, "Yeah, great put her through."

"Lisa is a girl I met in Connecticut," Jim explains. "And that's all you need to know."

"There's nothing you can tell us about her?" The crew asks.

Jim presses his lips together and shakes his head. "She's really nice. Um, funny, sweet, just a really cool girl."

Jim's never been one to talk about his personal life, especially to a camera crew. He doesn't feel the need to tell them how Lisa is a cousin of one of the guys he worked with in the Stamford branch. She had come into the office one day to drop off a toolbox and she and Jim had hit it off. She was beautiful and could tell a joke that he genuinely laughed at, and when his coworker asked if he wanted to double with him and his girlfriend, Jim had accepted.

He had told her about life growing up outside of Scranton, the crazy faces at his old branch, and of one Dwight K. Schrute. Somehow he always neglected to mention Pam.

She was just out of college and working at an independent insurance agency in Greenwich. She was one of their top consultants, and as Jim was offered the job in Scranton, she war receiving a rather large raise.

"Does that mean you're over Pam," he asks with much audacity.

Jim's eyes widen incredulously, "That's inappropriate."

Jim sits back in his chair with the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. "Yeah, I settled in fine." He chuckles a bit, "No Dwight hasn't done anything outrageous yet." He squints his eyes out the window to the main office. "He seems to be taking notes or something." The camera whizzes around to catch Dwight through the blinds with a pad of paper and pen making visual estimates before jotting something down. "I think he's planning out the new layout of my office. He thinks the job is really his and we're just playing a mean trick on him." He grins, "Yeah, nothing's changed."

Oscar launches a Hateball and Kevin cheers.

Creed is not at his desk.

Carrying a folder, Kelly walks past Ryan's desk. Ryan sighs. Carrying the same folder, Kelly walks past Ryan's desk again. Ryan drops his head in his hands.

"I told Kelly that I needed some space," Ryan explains. He nods a little, obviously frightened. "She did not take the news well… at all."

Jim sits at his desk propping his chin in his hand as Kelly paces back and forth in his office. "And then he tells me that sometimes he feels like he can't breathe and I'm just like 'What the hell, Ryan? You said you wanted to have fun!' And trust me Jim, I am a lot of fun. But not too much fun. Not like Paris Hilton fun. I'm the perfect balance of fun. Like, I don't know, Jessica Simpson fun. And I was like 'Is it something I did?' And he was all 'No, no, it's just between work and the weekends, we never get any space.' And I was all 'Then there's something wrong with me, isn't there? Isn't there Ryan?' And he was like 'I just think we're on different pages.' I mean what is _that_ about?"

Jim stares ahead blankly.

The clock on the wall reads 5:45 and only the cleaning crew is left at the office. Across town at Applebee's, a large section has been roped off to accommodate the camera crew. There's a long table where majority of the employees sit along with a few smaller tables that others sit with family members. Jim sits at the head of the main table, laughing at something Toby has just said. Pam sits timidly beside him with her chin resting in her folded hands. Her eyes stay frozen on Jim's face and she studies the lines and curves of his profile intently.

"It's really great to have Jim back," she confirms from the bar. "It's as is he never left."

While Pam is gone, Kelly slips into her seat. "So tell me Jim, now that Roy's out of the picture, are you going to go for it with Pam?"

Jim looks up to the camera and them back down at the table.

"I did not know that," he tells the camera.

"They're not," he moves his finger back and forth. "Not anything anymore?"

"He moved out of their apartment like forever ago," Kelly confirms. "Nobody knows why they broke up either." She leans in conspiratorially, "Do you think he cheated on her.

Jim takes a long swig from his beer.

Kelly turns and winks at the camera.

Kevin lifts his plate and tells the waiter that he ordered the ribs. The waiter apologizes for his mistake.

Angela passes Dwight the rest of her slice of pie.

Creed is sleeping in the parking lot.

A waitress flirts with Ryan. From across the table Kelly watches with dagger eyes. Ryan catches this and tells the waitress he's all set.

Phyllis walks up to Jim who is standing by the bar ordering another drink. They have a short exchange and she laughs placing her hand on his shoulder as he winks.

Pam sits at the main table and watches Phyllis as she walks away from the bar. She slips a gift bag out from underneath the table and heads towards Jim. "Hey," she says sliding onto the barstool beside him.

"Hey," he smiles. "It's not your birthday," he says addressing the gift bag.

"No it is not," she agrees pushing it towards him. "This is for you. Just a little gift from all of us."

"Am I allowed to open it now?"

"You're actually required to."

He pulls out the first item, "Truly Tasteless Jokes," he looks at her beneath the hood of his eyes, "perfect."

"Keep going," she says patting her hands against the bar in excitement.

"Coke," he grins. "I wonder what that's for," he says teasingly.

"Rules are rules, and you're now the enforcer so you _have_ to follow them."

He pulls out the spy kit and they both erupt in laughter leaning in to mutter "Michael Scott, Private Eye" in unison.

Jim holds his finger against her mouth silencing her before she can say "jinx."

"And finally," he says reaching in for the last gift. "Managing for Dummies… because apparently I'm incompetent."

"Sad, but true," she shrugs.

"And this came from everybody?" He says arching his brows.

"Yep," she nods innocently, "I was very impressed by their creativity."

"Amazing," he tells the camera. He bows his head shielding his mouth as he mutters, "She's just so amazing."

Pam and Jim play with his spy kit. He places the detective hat on her head while she inspects the bar with the magnifying glass. Jim's cell rings and he glances down at the number before excusing himself. "Hey Lise…" she hears him say as he walks towards the door. Slowly Pam removes the hat from her head and frowns.

"Things change," Pam shrugs. "You can't expect things to be exactly the same as they were and I'm fine with that."

From the parking lot Jim scuffs his feet against the sidewalk. "No I wasn't busy," he says. "Nothing, nothing's wrong." He sighs digging his hand into his pocket.

Michael enters the restaurant and spots the Dunder Mifflin crowd, many of them are putting on their coats. "Wires crossed," he announces making an X with his arms, "don't worry, I found the party." A bunch of people sit back down awkwardly as Michael approaches. "What do we have here?" He asks over Stanley's shoulder. "Are you going to finish that?" He wanders poking at the leftovers a bit.

"Not anymore," Stanley mutters.

"Great," he lifts up the plate and takes a seat next to Dwight. "Let's get this party started!"

"Yeah!" Dwight cheers.

Jim sneaks back in and taps Pam's shoulder, "Hey you want to get out of here?" He clears his throat, "You know, to talk."

She looks up and smiles, "Yeah."

"Do I get to give another goodbye?" Michael asks from the bar. "Let's see. As the Beatles once said 'And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.'" He nods thoughtfully.

Pam and Jim bump into each other as they walk across the parking lot. He says something nonchalantly and she laughs.

"And that's very true. What's also very true is 'I am the walrus, goo goo cachoo.' You know, just something to think about."


	3. Assisting Mr Halpert

**Where Would I Be?**

_Chapter Two: Assisting Mr. Halpert_

Dwight enters the office and hangs his jacket on the coat rack. Pam is at her desk biting back a smile, and already Dwight is aware that Jim is up to something. He then turns his attention towards his desk, which is missing.

"Damnit Jim!" He exclaims running towards the bathroom. Jim is not a man of many pranks and is known to repeat from time to time, the gelatin encrusted in his stapler is evidence of that fact, but as he enters the Men's room, he sees that this is not such an occasion. "Damnit, Jim!" He repeats with a growl.

Hesitantly he peers into the Lady's room, cautious that he will again be reprimanded for his investigations. "Damnit, Jim!" He shouts again. "Where did you put my desk? Where did you put it?"

Dwight rushes into Jim's office and is cut short when he plows right into a second desk. A desk that just so happens to be his.

"Oh, hey Dwight," Jim says innocently, sipping from his mug of coffee that says 'World's Best Boss.' "How's it going?"

"Why is my desk in here?" He demands.

Jim looks down suspiciously at the extra desk and then back at Dwight, "Oh, right. I figured we'd both work more productively if we were in familiar surroundings. You know? Side by side. Just like the old days."

"Studies have shown that I worked 52 percent more productively without constant interruptions," Dwight counters.

Jim narrows his eyes, "Who conducted studies, Dwight?"

"I did," he answers quickly.

Jim struggles not to laugh for a moment and then shrugs his shoulders, "Fine, my first goal as regional manager of the Scranton branch is to make all of my employees happy, and I just so happen to know you've always wanted an office."

"Not with you," Dwight says shaking his head frantically.

"Truth be told," Jim leans his elbows against his desk, "I was getting a little lonely in here all by myself."

"Then put Stanley in here," he reasons. "He can protect you."

Jim glances at the camera and widens his eyes before looking back at Dwight. "But Stanley and I aren't partners in crime," he hits his hand against his desk. "Not like you and me. We are regional manager and assistant to the regional manager."

"Assistant regional manager," Dwight corrects.

"That was under Michael's regime, the title has been adjusted accordingly."

"We need to work together," Jim continues as he sits back in his chair and kicks his feet on top of his desk. "Like Batman and Robin."

"We are not partners in crime," he refutes, "because you are not my superior, your superiors are my superior."

"So what," Jim touches the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully. "I'm just the middle man?"

"Exactly."

He grins, "But I can still fire you."

Dwight's eyes widen, he obviously overlooked that fact. "No," he says quickly.

"I think I can," Jim presses his lips challengingly and nods his head.

"No you can't," Dwight refutes again.

"No, I definitely can."

"Am I going to fire Dwight?" Jim asks the camera. "No. I'm going to get him to quit. That way we don't have to give him severance pay and I save the company money. Plus we can start off a new seller at a lower wage." Jim flashes a smile, "See, they promoted me for a reason. I spent the past six months coming up with different ways to terrorize Dwight; a new scenario every day I was gone which adds up to like 180 or something, so I don't really have to put in that much more effort. I like to consider it more of a side project."

Pam sits quietly at her desk when the phone beeps. "Yes, Jim?"

"Could you connect me to my assistant please?"

"Right away, sir."

Dwight's phone rings. "Dwight Schrute," he says upon answering.

"Hey Dwight, its Jim."

Dwight looks off through the doorway not more than ten feet away where Jim is sitting, tapping his fingers carelessly against his desk.

"What do you want?"

"Could you come here for a second?" He asks scrunching his face.

"What do you want?" Dwight asks again after making the three yard trek.

"I have some dry cleaning I need picked up before 3," he explains. "I was hoping you could run out and get it."

"Ryan usually does that kind of stuff."

"Which is a travesty," Jim exclaims. "He is the temp, _you_ are the assistant."

"No, I am a salesman…" Dwight corrects.

"Whose first duty is to assist the regional manager in his needs," Jim finishes.

"Who will close these sales though?"

"Stanley… or Phyllis… or Meredith," Jim suggests.

"Meredith isn't in sales," Dwight counters.

"Well she could still close one," he defends.

"What about the commission?"

"What about my slacks clean and pressed, Dwight?"

"No I mean Meredith's," Dwight explains, "she doesn't have a seller code."

"She could make one up."

"Yeah, but how would she get the money?"

"I would know because I wouldn't recognize the code," Jim decides.

"But what if she just so happened to make up a code that was the same as one of ours?"

"Then that would be her fault."

"Could you give her mine?" Dwight suggests.

"Get my dry cleaning Dwight," Jim says sending him away.

Dwight sighs, "Fine."

"My first implementation is to make Dwight my personal assistant." Jim explains. "I mean he was basically Michael's, but that was on a completely voluntary basis." Jim tilts his head thoughtfully as he watches Dwight hang a painting on the opposite wall. Dwight checks over his shoulder for approval as Jim shakes his head. "So it's a fun project to make Dwight's life miserable." He shrugs, "And in the process, I get stuff that I would have had to do during my free time done during work." He smiles proudly, "Everybody wins."

Angela glares across her desk at Kevin and Oscar. She sighs heavily and files away a folder.

"I don't consider myself a hard worker," Angela says to the camera. "I am an efficient worker, and that's more important. I could be working hard on something for hours and not get the job done or I can get it done and move on to something else. My coworkers are neither. They play games all day and check sports scores." Her tone is still stale, "It's infuriating."

Jim leans against Pam's desk and fishes out an M&M from her candy dish. "So I'm thinking about sending Dwight on a scavenger hunt," he begins.

She smiles leaning in closer, "How so?"

"Well I'll give him a simple task, like making a photocopy of phone records or something," he explains. "Then when he lifts the lid of the copier, there will be another thing like, 'I left my lunch at home, make me a sandwich.'"

"Brilliant."

"Things between Jim and I are great," Pam is obviously excited as she speaks to the camera. "We really worked through a lot of our issues, so it's good."

"What about this Lisa girl?" The cameraman asks.

At reception, the phone rings and Pam picks it up, "Dunder Mifflin this is Pam." She frowns, "Yeah, he's right here."

Jim points to himself curiously as she hands him the phone. "Hey, how's it going?"

Pam ducks away shyly and picks up a crate of papers that need to be shredded.

Pam forces a smile to the camera. "Lisa sounds great. They've been seeing each other for about three months now and are trying out things long distance for a while until they figure out whether they can get their lives back into the same city." She nods dully, "It sounds really romantic."

"Don't you have work to do over there?" Jim teases, still on the phone. "How can you be a good agent if you never make any sales? You're always calling me." He laughs, "Well when they find out that this Jim Halpert hasn't signed up for any of the plans they may think differently."

Pam watches this scene as she feeds paper into the shredder with eyes that match Angela's.

"Well I've got work here," Jim explains, "yeah a big project. Talk to you later."

Jim steps up beside Pam and starts feeding in paper with her. "So after the sandwich I was going to lead him to get my car washed or something."

Pam only smiles sadly.

Toby organizes a pile of complaint forms. There is a weeping sound and as the camera pans two desks over, Kelly sits brushing tears out of her eyes. Toby swallows thickly and glances at the camera before going back to work. Kelly glares at him over her shoulder and sighs heavily before magically recomposing herself and going back to work.

Dwight is at the Monster dot com website when his phone rings. "Dwight Schrute," he answers.

"Hey Dwight, it's me," Dwight looks to his right where Jim offers a small wave from his desk.

"What do you want?" He groans.

"My coffee's a little cold," he sighs. "Could you warm it up for me?"

Oscar is checking football scores from the night before. Angela glares at him and then at the camera.

Ryan talks to the temp agency. "Well I've been here for almost two years now," he argues. "I just don't see anything very temporary about that."

Pam is flipping through a magazine at reception when the phone rings. "Dunder Mifflin this is Pam."

"Pam pa Pam, Pam."

She narrows her eyes at the phone, "What was that?"

"Pam pa Pam Pam, Pam!" The voice singsongs.

"Hi Michael," she says trying to mask the annoyance in her tone. "Do you need to speak with Jim?"

He laughs, "How'd you guess it was me?"

She rolls her eyes, "Just a lucky guess. Should I connect you over to Jim?"

"Actually I figured you could just pass me around the office, you know let everyone get a quick 'hello' in."

"Everybody seems pretty busy," Pam says, watching Phyllis powder her nose in her compact mirror. "Very busy," she says when her eyes catch Kevin struggling to stay awake.

There's a pause, "Can I just talk to Ryan then?"

Pam looks down at the phone, "His line is actually busy right now."

"Just disconnect him, this is important."

"Okay," she says reluctantly. Pressing a few buttons she hangs up the phone.

Across the office Ryan is looking around confused. "Hello?" He checks his phone. "Hello?"

"Ryan! It's your mothah!" Michael whines with a Jewish Brooklyn accent. "Ryan why don't you ever cawll?"

Ryan looks straight ahead in horror.

Jim is on the phone with a client. "No I'm looking at the summary right now and you're completely right. The paper you ordered is in stock and should have been delivered to your company at least three days ago." He nods. "There must have been a little miscommunication with warehouse. Yes, you're right, two weeks is a long time."

"Apparently warehouse doesn't like me very much," Jim explains to the camera. He holds up a stack of papers, "This is a list of complaints I've gotten from various companies because their orders have all been shipped late." He reads through them quickly, "Strange how all of them were orders that took place after I took this position." He touches a finger to his chin and cocks his head thoughtfully, "Weird."

Daryl steps into Jim's office who instructs him to close the door behind him. The cameras zoom in through the blinds. Jim lowers his voice. "Look I think it's unprofessional to allow personal reasons to effect your guys' work down there."

Daryl folds his arms over his chest, "Should we make a list of inappropriate practices within the work place? Because I think you and I coincide in a gray area" He challenges.

Jim's eye catches the camera through the blinds as he shakes his head slowly. "Let's just make sure I don't get any more complaints on my desk about your efficiency."

As Daryl exits the office he nods at Pam who bows her head guiltily. She quickly lifts her gaze towards Jim's office where he stands in the doorway, hands in pockets.

Pam's eyes apologize but Jim doesn't look at them. Instead he walks over to Dwight's desk and pats his shoulder. "Good job on that last sale," he says.

Dwight seems confused.

"About that coffee…" he continues.

Pam pushes a few buttons on the phone before slipping out from behind her desk and towards the elevator. Down in the warehouse, she catches Roy. He's surprised to see her, and barely gets to react before Pam pulls on his arm telling him that they need to talk.

"Don't do this," she hisses from behind a cart of manila folders. "Don't blame the way things ended between us on him."

"What are you talking about?" He asks incredulously.

"Why are you guys down here trying to get him fired?" She snaps back.

"You know what? It was bad enough when he fawned over you day after day," Roy bites. "But now he's my boss and I'm supposed to respect him? That's ridiculous!"

"Just," she's frustrated and can't come out with the argument she intended. "Don't take out your anger on him, okay? Take it out on me. I'm the reason things ended, not him."

"And why was that?" He counters.

She shakes her head and begins to walk away. "Pam," he protests grabbing her arm. "I'm sorry, okay?"

She frowns, her eyes still dark and cold. "I hate that after everything we've been through; things have to be like this." He smiles sadly. "Ten years, Pamie. Ten years have to mean something."

She's crying now because they do. She brushes away the tears as if they never existed and runs up the stairs. She had imagined her life to be much easier. She remembers the night Roy moved out and she sat in their bed listening to the echoes of silence. She had never felt so alone in her life.

As she heads back upstairs she passes her desk and goes straight to Jim's. He's not there, probably eating lunch in the break room, or at a meeting, it doesn't matter. He's anywhere but there at that moment. She looks at his desk where a picture of Lisa sits in a frame with a little post it note on the edge that says, "So you don't forget what I look like." She's crying harder now and tucks herself under his desk so no one will see her. And for the second time in her life, she's never felt so alone.

She hears Jim's feet against the carpet and cringes. Nobody wants to be caught under a desk crying their eyes out because their former fiancé misses them and there's a picture above them that's ruining their life. Nobody wants to be seen in that position. Especially by Jim Halpert.

She's panicking now, trying to come up with excuses for why she's huddled under his desk. She dropped a tray of diamonds and needs to find them all because it's her life's savings. She and Kevin decided to play hide and seek and she's better at hiding than she thought. She thought she saw Michael coming.

The tears are coming faster now and she's ducking her face behind her hands and pressing her legs so tightly against her chest, she wonders if he'd even be able to see her if he found her hiding under here.

Jim hears a rustle and peeks under his desk, "Hide and seek with Kevin?" He ponders with a grin.

She's laughing and crying because he knows her so well and she can't take it anymore. His face falls when he recognizes her mood. "Pam, what's wrong?" He's saying as he crawls beneath the desk with her, bumping his head before he finds the proper height.

"Nothing," she dismisses.

"Right," he says in a tone that sounds anything but belief.

"I talked to Roy," she says.

Recognition dawns on him. "If this is about before…"

"No," she lies. "He had lost a pair of boots and I just found them the other day and was giving them back." She's impressed with herself for a moment.

"Are you okay?"

"Just made me think of a lot of things, that's all."

"And one of those things just happened to be Dwight. That's it," he says wiping away a tear. "That explains the crying."

She kisses him then. It's shy and timid, the way he always imagined the first time she kissed him would be like. Her hand grips his tie then touches his chest then his cheek. It's tender and incredible, and he wishes that he knew six months ago that when he told her he loved her that it would lead up to this, because he would have waited for her. He wouldn't have found a girl that made him smile the way she used to. He wouldn't have fallen for another girl to the point that he had forgiven Pam for never leaving Roy. He wouldn't have pulled away when she kissed him.

The camera doesn't catch this though; the closest they get is to the office window where they peek through the blinds. All they catch is Jim as he stands up abruptly and straightens his tie.

"Nothing happened," Jim tells the camera after they harass him for details. "She just needed somebody to talk to and I was there for her," he shrugs, "that's what friends do. And I think if Pam and I have proven anything it's that we're just friends."


	4. Murder, They Played

**Where Would I Be?**

_Chapter Three: Murder, They Played_

Jim sits at his desk typing something on his computer. Every so often his eyes drift to the couch by his door before returning back to his monitor. Dwight sits on the couch flipping through a magazine.

Jim can't take it any longer, "Hey, Dwight are you taking your lunch break right now or something?"

Dwight looks up from his magazine, "Oh, no, already spoke with all my clients, so I figured I'd take a little down time."

Jim nods, "All right then."

Dwight drops his magazine, "Actually, I was hoping we could talk about lady issues."

"Um…" Jim covers his mouth with his hand. "Okay, wow," he mumbles into his palm. It takes a moment to recompose himself, but he's too interested in what Dwight might have to say, "What kind of lady issues?"

Dwight puckers his lips thoughtfully, "When a lady doesn't require you to wear proper prophylactics, is it fair to assume they are on some sort of contraceptive?"

Jim regrets his curiosity, "Yes, usually." He nods tightly. "Unless they're one of those devout Catholic types, you know in the literal sense, where it's against their beliefs to use birth control."

The color drains from Dwight's face, "Crap bag," he mutters.

"But you don't have to worry," Jim laughs, "because you don't have a girlfriend."

"To the contrary," he chuckles deeply, "she's a little firecracker, that's what she is."

He flinches, "Sure she is, Dwight."

"What about your girlfriend," he says challengingly, "what is she like?"

"European," Jim says simply.

"European? That doesn't say anything. Majority of the United States is from European descent, she could be anyone."

"No, I mean straight out of Europe," he elaborates. "She's hairy and doesn't bath regularly; it really drives on the animalistic urges."

Dwight shakes his head, "That's disgusting."

"Hey, at least I'm not dating a fire crotch," he counters.

"I did not say fire crotch," Dwight says pounding his fist against the armrest, "I said firecracker!"

"No, you definitely said fire crotch," Jim says with a grin.

Dwight narrows his eyes, "Well at least I'm not dating a hobbit!"

"Yeah," Jim agrees, "she is short, and man are her big feet sexy."

He doesn't expect Jim to take his insult as a complement. "Yeah, well," Dwight begins to stumble over his words. "At least…" he gets up from the couch. "I don't have to take this."

Jim follows Dwight with his eyes and then looks to the camera with a grin. "All too easy."

Meredith reloads the copy machine and presses the 'Start' button a second time.

Jim steps out of his office with a box that he sets on his former desk. "All right everybody," he announces, "gather round."

The office circle around the desk peering into the box curiously. "General performance has been a little down lately, so we're going to have a little morale booster," he explains. "Not a Michael Scott morale booster mind you, a Jim Halpert one."

"Is anybody here familiar with the game Murder?" He looks around at the blank stares, "Come on, somebody had to play this in college at some point." Toby and Kelly raise their hands. "Good," Jim says content. "For those who haven't, I'll explain the rules." He reaches into the box and pulls out a butter knife. "Everybody will pick a knife that has a piece of tape on it with a number. This is your number. Beneath this piece of tape is a second number. This is your victim."

Pam walks up with a large sheet of decorated oak tag. "Our lovely receptionist, Pam has set up a board for us so that we can all keep track of who belongs to which number. Now the point of the game is to get your victim alone with you in a room with the door closed, that way there are no witnesses. An important tidbit, you _must_ get permission to close a door when trying to corner a victim.All rooms are up for grabs including restrooms, the break room, the conference room, the elevator, and staircases. The murder must take place on company property so there's no following people home, Dwight."

Jim taps his finger against his chin, "Let's see…" he mumbles under his breath. "Ah, right, if you are 'murdered,'" he emphasizes with air quotes, "you are considered a ghost. This means that if Stanley, Meredith, and I are in the break room and the doors are closed and I'm already dead, then Stanley can kill Meredith because as we learned in the film _Ghost_ only cats and Whoopi Goldberg can see you. In order to keep track of who is dead or alive," Jim says walking over to Pam and the "Murder Board", "when you are killed you will cross your name off the board, but don't tell anyone because it keeps things interesting."

He clasps his hands together. "Any questions?"

"Are alliances allowed?" Dwight asks.

Jim grins, "Alliance are allowed and encouraged, but remember in the end it's every man," he quickly adds, "or woman for their self." He looks around, "Any other questions?" Looking around he receives no response. "All right, good. Corporate has given me an incentive check, so as your 'incentive' to win, there is a nice little bonus involved."

"What's going on in here?" Everybody freezes to the voice of Michael Scott. "You guys having a tea party?" He says looking at the box of knives.

"No, we're playing a little game of," Dwight looks side to side, "murder."

"Okay, new rule," Jim says abruptly, "Dwight can not use the word murder… ever."

"Well sign me up!" Michael says snatching a knife from the box.

"Actually this was for the employees," Jim says trying to take the knife back.

Michael suddenly takes a serious tone, "And what? Since I am now a member of corporate, I am no longer one of you? Is that what it is?"

Jim cringes, "Well it's sort of for a bonus and the game could go on for weeks, and it really isn't fair if you're in New York and somebody is trying to kill you, and we only have enough knives for people in the office."

"Marjorie isn't here," Dwight says quickly. "Michael can have her knife."

"Not helping," Jim breathes through gritted teeth.

"Jim's just afraid because he knows I'm going to beat him," Michael laughs. "Would you all look at that! Little Jimmy Halpert is afraid of being beat by his boss."

Dwight's the only one to laugh.

"Come on Little Jimmy Halpert! You afraid of the big bad boss coming along and reclaiming his office?" He continues to taunt.

Jim loosens his tie, "Actually I was thinking about your job in New York."

"I will have this game packed, stacked, and out of here by 5 pm," Michael says. "And that's a promise."

"The only reason I'm letting Michael play," Jim begins to the cameras, "is that I'm pretty sure he'll be the first one out."

"I have a definite advantage," Dwight tells the camera. Everyone in the office grabs a knife as Dwight steps off in the background watching everyone carefully. "I have years of experience as a Lackawanna County Volunteer Deputy Sheriff, you be the judge."

"This is a game about killing people," Angela argues. "Not just that, we're being paid to do it. We are being encouraged to become hired hit men. It's wrong and despicable."

"I love mysteries," Phyllis begins excitedly. From her desk she glances around the office and takes notes on a piece of paper. "I've always been a fan of those A&E mysteries like _Detective Poirot_ so this should be really fun."

Toby looks at the board and then back at his knife. "I have Michael," he informs the camera. "This is turning out to be a pretty good day."

Kevin grins widely, "We get to kill people," he says with a chuckle. "I hope I get Angela."

Jim Halpert's name is written next to the number 7. Pam sits in the conference room interview with a huge grin plastered on her face. She holds up her knife and as the camera zooms in, the number 7 is written on it. "Somebody's going down," she says simply.

"I will not tell you who my victim is," Dwight shakes his head. "A criminal never reveals his secrets."

Dwight stares across the office with a maniacal grin directly at Ryan the temp's desk. Ryan turns to grab a folder and sees Dwight in the corner of his eye. Dwight looks away inconspicuously, his grin still on his face as he glances towards Ryan again.

"Yeah," Ryan nods, "Dwight definitely has me." He pauses, staring off in horror. "And I am absolutely terrified."

Ryan is in the kitchen making coffee. Over his shoulder Dwight is watching him through the blinds on the door. Slowly he lifts his hand with knife drawn. Ryan fills his mug slower than he needs to, waits for a long moment, and then heads back towards his desk. Dwight shakes his fist in defeat.

"Honestly?" Ryan begins. "I really could care less about this game. I'm on a different payroll than everyone else because I'm not an official employee so this bonus means absolutely nothing to me."

Ryan walks past Kelly's desk and she glares at him. He swallows thickly and keeps walking.

"Also, I have Kelly's knife," he explains, "and I rather not be in a room alone with her for obvious reasons."

Michael sneaks behind the soda machine in the break room. Upon hearing someone enter, he peaks around the edge to see Phyllis walk in. Michael tells the cameraman to be quiet and then jumps out from behind the vending machine. "You're dead!" He shouts.

Phyllis is startled a bit at first but then shakes her head. "No I'm not," she says gesturing behind her. "The door is still open."

"Well close the door then."

She shakes her head again, "No, Michael."

"Well you're dead and we both know it," Michael says. "So you might as well just give me your knife because if I can't kill you now, you know I'll just get you later. Come on Phyllis, let's just save ourselves both the effort."

"No, Michael," she repeats. Phyllis removes her lunch from the toaster oven and leaves.

"When I play a game," Michael informs the camera. "I play with my all. There's none of that 'Sorry little girl for pushing you over, I really wanted to score that goal.'" He shakes his head. "No. It's 'Get down and stay down, I'm going to win this thing with or without your help. And you're a girl so you really shouldn't be playing soccer.'" He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know, I was usually on the bench. Some nonsense about hogging the ball. But how are you supposed to trust the other people on your team to win, when you know that you're the only one who can do it?"

Frustrated Michael heads off into the kitchen where Toby is pouring a cup of coffee. The door swings closed behind Michael and when Toby sees that the door on the opposite side of the room is also closed, quickly reaches his hand into his pocket. "Um, Michael?" He says, stopping Michael on his trek to the other door.

"Yes, Toby?" He groans. "What do you want?"

"You're dead," Toby says holding up his knife.

Michael stares at Toby coldly and then towards the camera in the window. "Um, I don't think that's possible."

"No, it is," Toby refutes. "You even closed the door yourself."

"Why are you even playing?" Michael questions vehemently.

"I work here?" Toby says carefully.

From Jim's office, Michael and Toby stand before Jim declaring their case. "I'm sorry Michael, but you're out of the game," Jim shrugs. "There's really nothing I can do."

"Except admit I was right," Michael says plainly.

"But the problem is that you _weren't_ right," Jim explains. "And according to the rules, you're dead now."

"This is ridiculous," Michael utters stalking out of the room.

Toby and Jim watch helplessly.

"I just think that it's really unfair when people are obviously gunning for you," Michael begins to the camera. "Jim and I used to be tight. And it's a shame that office warfare has led to the demise of our friendship. It's just a shame that now that I'm a part of corporate that they automatically gun for me." Michael walks out of the office.

Dwight sits at Meredith's desk and watches Ryan from over the computer monitor. Meredith stands above Dwight holding a stack of papers and clears her throat. Dwight stands up and apologizes.

Oscar looks across the office at Pam then sets his knife on his desk.

Stanley throws his knife in his drawer and gets back to work.

Jim stands in the doorway of his office, "Hey Dwight, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"In there?" Dwight questions.

"Yeah," Jim nods.

"Alone?"

"Yes," Jim continues to nod.

Jim takes a seat at his desk as Dwight enters. "Could you shut that behind you?"

"Why?" Dwight asks tightly.

"I do not have Dwight," Jim confesses. "Sadly."

"It gets breezy in here with the door open," Jim explains. "Papers fly around, it's crazy."

"Why don't you close the window then," he suggests.

"Because then I can't hear my car alarm if it goes off," Jim counters.

"Good point," Dwight nods. "Do you mind if I leave the door open a crack?"

"Yes."

"All right then," he says, the door latching behind him.

"Terrible Dwight," Jim shakes his head. "That was terrible. Do you really expect to win this game using those tactics?"

"What do you mean?" Dwight says confused.

"I could have killed you three times already!" Jim declares. "Now get out of my office," he narrows his eyes, "you make me sick."

"I still haven't ruled Jim out as a suspect," Dwight says to the camera. "In fact, he's now at the top of my list."

Jim buzzes Pam, "I'm bored," he says.

"Not even mass murder can entertain you?" Pam giggles. "Dwight is literally lurching above Ryan with his knife drawn."

"You want to watch a movie?" He suggests.

"I'll bring popcorn," she says switching off the intercom.

From his desk, Creed butters a piece of bread with his murder weapon.

Stanley walks over to Dwight's desk. "I had a question about one of the stock qualities," he says. "Could you come look at it with me in the storage room?"

"Sure," Dwight says.

"I don't usually play games in the office," Stanley informs the camera. "But this is for a bonus."

"The paper is behind the door, do you mind if I close it?" Stanley says upon entering the storage room.

"Um, okay, yeah," Dwight says oblivious.

"You're dead," Stanley says simply.

"Damnit," Dwight says exiting the closet and throwing his arms in defeat.

Phyllis looks over at accounting watching the three carefully before jotting down a few notes. "I know that Toby has me now," Phyllis says to the camera. "And then I think it's Kelly after that." She smiles widely, "It's so exciting, isn't it?"

Pam enters Jim's office with a freshly popped bag of popcorn. "Should I close this?" She asks addressing the door.

"Yeah, sure," he nods adjusting his monitor so it faces the sofa.

Pam gives the thumbs up to the camera as she closes the door behind her. "You're not worried about me killing you?" She teases.

He laughs, "You wouldn't."

"Oh yeah?" She challenges.

"Yeah," he matches her tone. "You need me."

"Really?" She scoffs. "Are you asking me to be in an alliance?"

He puts his hands on his hips. "I don't think you really have me," he says.

"You want to test that theory?"

He presses his lips together, "No, I want the door open."

"Too late," she laughs blocking the door.

There's a struggle by the door, and through the blinds the camera watches as Jim takes Pam from around the waist and turns them so he's closer to the door. He lunges towards the knob, but is rendered incapable when Pam shrieks and tackles him onto the sofa. There's silence then, and as the camera changes angles, catches Jim smothering Pam against the armrest of the sofa. Their lips dueling and hands frantically running over bodies. They jump apart and moments later Pam rushes out of the office and back to her desk. Jim follows shortly after and crosses his name off the murder board before stepping back into his office, the door closing quickly behind him.

Phyllis looks at Pam who gathers and shuffles papers as if there were a gun held to her head.

"Jim's office?" Pam asks the camera stunned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kevin walks past Stanley suspiciously. He's about to ask him something, when Stanley drones, "No." Kevin walks away in defeat.

"I think Murder was a success," Jim informs the cameras. "People are certainly going all out."

Kelly follows Toby into the Men's room.

"Some are taking the game more seriously than others."

From the parking lot, Michael sits in his car still fuming. His knuckles are white wrapped around the steering wheel and "Drift Away" plays loudly from his stereo.

"I mean I lost," Jim continues. "Which sucks. But I think things are going really well."

Pam sits at her desk with her head in her hand and phone at her ear. "I don't know, it happened again." She swipes away a tear and shields her face again. "In his office just now." She sighs, "I know, it just can't right now. He's in love with someone else." She pauses for a moment, "I know." Pam looks up to see the camera watching her and then turns away. "Look mom, I've got to go. Yeah, I'll talk to you later."

From his office, Jim stares at the couch and presses his lips together. His phone rings and he answers it quickly. "Hey, Lise…" he frowns. "Yeah, things are great…"

"What am I doing?" Jim asks the camera. "I have no idea."

Jim hangs up his phone as Dwight enters. "What do you think about you and me forming an alliance," Dwight suggests.

Jim just looks to the camera dumbfounded.


	5. Obese with Me

**Where Would I Be?**

_Chapter Four: Obese with Me_

"Dunder Blunders, is a program that I've been running for the past few weeks now to help the employees learn the rights and wrongs of the office," Michael explains. "It's been very successful, and I've received nothing but kind words about it. Jan even said 'Michael, you shouldn't' which I thought was adorable."

"Dunder Blunders is Michael's excuse to never leave," Jim offers his interpretation. "Every week he comes in and wastes about an hour of our time and then sticks around for the rest of the day and just causes a general commotion." Michael races Dwight's desk chair around the office as Dwight waves his arms compulsively, knocking things off people's desks. Jim watches helplessly from his office door.

"Some of Michael's 'important lessons,'" Oscar begins with air quotes, "were genocide…"

From one of Michael's seminars, Kevin is on his knees with hands raised. Pam stands behind him holding an air gun. "Quiet you," she instructs with poor acting. "You are one who eats pizza, therefore those who eat pasta will kill you."

"… disabilities…" Oscar continues.

A line of six employees stand in the front of the conference room. Kelly is wearing a blindfold, Oscar wears a pair of large ear muffs, Jim has oven mitts on his hands, Stanley has a clothespin on his nose, Creed has a sock in his mouth, and Dwight holds binoculars.

"These are the six senses," Michael explains.

"Aren't there only five," Ryan asks curiously.

"Yeah, and what is Dwight supposed to be?" Pam questions.

Michael rolls his eyes, "Dwight is sight of the dead. I wasn't sure how to show that so I gave him binoculars in case the dead people were far away."

Pam and Jim share an amused look.

"… pregnancy scares…"

"All right everybody," Michael says handing out several boxes. "We are all going to take pregnancy tests!"

"… censorship…"

"I want everyone to stand up here and say exactly how they feel about anybody in this office," Michael announces. "Here Kevin, I want you to read this," he hands Kevin a card.

Kevin stands up, "Does the carpet match the drapes?" He begins, "Or did you have it removed for hardwood?" Kevin chokes his laughter. Everyone stares in horror.

Michael continues his speech, "I want you to be able to walk into this office with your pants off or your shirt undone and just to be able to say: 'This is me y'all, and fuck you if you can't see me for that.'" Michael begins to unbutton his shirt, "And make sure you get that really gritty language in there too." Michael loosens his belt and nods towards Stanley. "Stan the man can give out suggestions if your drawing blanks on any of the," he throws his head back and shouts, "bleeps!" Michael unbuttons his pants.

"Okay, I think we're done for today," Jim says stopping Michael from stripping.

"… and my personal favorite, love triangles," Oscar finishes with a laugh.

"Oh no," Pam says dryly. "Who will I choose?"

Behind her Angela stands with arms folded across her chest and Meredith who lazily looks towards the clock.

Michael shakes his head, "More conflicted, you guys. This isn't just any love triangle. It's a lesbian love triangle. You all love each other!"

"You know," Oscar laughs again, "all relevant office situations."

Michael enters the office with a crate and a rolling suitcase. "Pamalama-ding-dong," he addresses Pam as he walks past her desk.

Pam shuts her eyes tightly before ringing Jim quickly, "Michael Scott alert."

"The final straw?" Jim considers this for a moment to the camera. "It was probably violence in the workplace."

Michael hands out an assortment of foam bats. Jim whacks Dwight in the back of the head. Dwight turns around and glares.

"Violence, is a very scary thing," Michael begins, hesitantly handing a bat to Stanley. "Now I want you all to take out your aggression on one another with these harmless toys so you realize how pointless violence really is."

Jim bops Pam on the head. Phyllis whacks Michael. "No!" Michael yells. "We are not taking out aggression on me!"

Michael joins Jim in his office. Michael puts his hand in the air for a high five, but Jim keeps his hands in his pocket. "Hey Jimbo, what's the deal-yo?"

"We're not doing Dunder Blunders today," Jim says plainly.

Michael narrows his eyes warily. "But it's Tuesday."

"That it is," Jim agrees, "but we're still not doing Dunder Blunders."

Michael tilts his head thoughtfully and lowers his voice. "I don't understand."

"We're not postponing another day of deadlines so you can run around and act out skits all day."

"I don't think you speak for everybody when you say this," Michael says simply. "But I'm pretty sure that I speak for everyone when I say 'Boo hiss, me want more Dunder Blunders.'"

"I do not agree with that," Jim says with a nod. "And actually, Jan agrees with the 'No More Dunder Blunders' Plan as well."

Michael's jaw drops incredulously. "You went around me to Jan?"

"Ever since Jim got promoted to regional manager," Michael begins to the camera. "I think it's pretty obvious to everybody that he's become a complete buzz kill. He's all about the customer, and getting work done. My biggest priority when I had his job was not the customer; it was my employees, and making sure that they were my friend. No matter what the cost."

"I can't believe you, man," Michael says shaking his head. "Jan?"

"What's worse is that he thinks that if he goes straight to my weakness," Michael continues to the camera, "my woman," he emphasizes, "that he can get what he wants. He might as well have just come up to me and said 'Listen, Michael, I want to ruin your dreams.'"

Jim licks his lips and bows his head. "I was having a hard time communicating with you and I thought I'd check with Jan first for proper procedures."

"I just," Michael continues to shake his head. "I just thought that we knew each other, you know? That we were on the same team." He ducks his head in an attempt to prevent his tears. "It just sucks that I was wrong, you know? It just really, really sucks."

Jim presses his lips together and turns his attention to the camera widening his eyes. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I don't think Michael and I are friends anymore," Jim says to the camera. He scratches behind his ear as he looks around.

"I've gotten much better with my drinking," Meredith admits to the camera. She ducks into the kitchen and gets a bottle of water out of the fridge. She smells it and nods approvingly. "But my son just got expelled so I've been trying to find other schooling for him." She pours the "water" into some cranberry juice. "It's been really stressful."

Kevin slips past Meredith in the kitchen. "Stacey and I have been planning our wedding," he explains. "We're trying to pull it off sometime during February. Not on Valentine's day but around it." He goes through the fridge pulling out the same bottle of "water" Meredith had just taken out. Glancing over his shoulder, he pours some in his soda. "It's been really stressful."

Creed steps into the kitchen after Kevin and takes a few swigs from the "water" bottle. "I'm drunk," he says to the cameras. "What about it?"

Jim groans as he hangs up the phone and heads towards the elevator. Down in the warehouse Michael wears a fat suit while the guys pass around photographs of obese actors and eat pizza.

"Since Mister Buzz Kill Halpert wouldn't allow me to do my presentation in the conference room," Michael explains, "I decided to bring it down to warehouse, because they are as much a part of this office as anybody upstairs is." He looks down, "The fat suit?" He laughs, "This actually has to do with today's lesson which is 'obesity.' It's something a lot of people," he covers his mouth with his hand and mumbles, "Kevin," he clears his throat, "deal with after _too much_ office life." Michael holds up a few photos, "I've got some pictures of famous 'fat' actors, including Fat Albert of _Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids_, Fat Bastard, no need to bleep that out it's just his name." He laughs filing through some more photos. "Um Newman from _Cheers…_"

"You mean _Seinfeld_," The cameraman corrects.

Michael narrows his eyes and shakes his head, "No Jerry Seinfeld wasn't overweight."

"Let's see, the cast of _Rosanne_, Gwyneth Paltrow," he says holding up a still from _Shallow Hal_. "Wow, I never realized how many fat people there were in entertainment," he says fanning through some more photos. "Almost like an epidemic."

Jim appears in the doorway and Michael rolls his eyes. "Look who we've got here," Michael says as Jim makes his way down the stairs. "Mister I'm too good for my old boss. Mister I don't need you to be my friend."

"Hey Michael," Jim says squinting curiously at his new wardrobe and catching the camera with confused eyes. "Can I talk to you real quick?" He says gesturing past his shoulder with his thumbs.

"Why?" Michael demands. "So you can spit on some more of my hopes and dreams?"

"Just wanted to clear a few things up, that's all," Jim explains.

Jim and Michael sit on some stacks of paper. Michael has a hard time boosting himself on the makeshift bench, and wiggles in his fat suit until he's sitting comfortably.

"My problem with what went down," Michael begins, "is that you felt the need to go through Jan instead of me."

"And I completely understand that," Jim agrees. "But sometimes I have a hard time talking with you on an adult level."

"Because of the whole bosom buddy things," Michael nods.

"Yeah, okay," Jim says nodding in agreement, "let's go with that." He presses his lips together and then clasps his hands. "I think that you're having a hard time moving on." Jim continues, "I think you need to move on from the fact that you don't work here anymore."

Michael frowns, "I'm not exactly following here."

Jim sighs heavily. "You need to let go of your old job and focus on your new one," Jim elaborates. "Or else you're probably going to get fired."

Michael thinks about it for a moment and begins to nod his head, "That is a good point. I did not think about that."

Jim pats his fat suit, "Just trying to look out for you." He gathers his words and offers a small smile, "That's what friends do."

The expression seems to be drained from Michael's face and suddenly a genuine smile is spreading across his face. "They do do that, don't they?"

"Let's get you back to New York," Jim says hopping off the stack of paper.

"Yeah," Michael agrees. He starts to climb down but then abruptly stops. "Um? Can you help me down?" He asks waddling to no avail.

Jim carefully hoists Michael off the bench with a soft thud. "Thank you, Jim," Michael says wrapping his arms around Jim. It's awkward though because his padded arms barely touch behind Jim's back. Jim reaches around Michael's back as far as he can and pats him comfortingly.

"Wow, imagine all the tender moments that are lost for the obese," Jim says dryly.

Michael is crying however, "I know," he whimpers. "And that's why I wanted to raise awareness. You know? Because of the love."

Upstairs Pam answers the ringing phone. "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam," she recognizes the sound of the voice on the line and has to hold back her groan. "I'm sorry he's not available right now, may I take a message." She rolls her eyes as she jots down a note. "Alright Lisa, I'll have him call you back as soon as he gets back." Pam hangs up the phone and rereads the message.

_To: Jim Halpert_

_From: Lisa Krandberg_

_Hey, just got in and found the key to your apartment fine. Left my stuff and will meet you for lunch around 1. Love you. Lise._

Pam considers throwing the note away but the cameras are watching her. Instead she smiles tightly and places it on top of Jim's pile.

Down in the warehouse, Michael has changed out of his fat suit and packs it into his suitcase. "Alright my Home Fried Chili Doggs," Michael says throwing a wink at Daryl who ducks away his amused grin. "I will be checking in with all you later."

Jim keeps his distance avoiding eye contact with Roy at all costs, but as he begins to slip back up the stairs he is cut short. "Hey Halpert."

Jim turns slowly and smiles awkwardly at Roy. "Hey, how's it going," he says simply.

"Could I talk to you for a second?"

He knows it's inevitable. He know that at some point in his life he'd have to face the ever uncomfortable conversation of , "You told my fiancée that you loved her, kissed the living daylights out of her, and then left me to be the bad guy for not wanting to let her go. The deposit was $500, the invitations $125, I'll be expecting a check in the mail, jack ass."

Jim swallows thickly, "Yeah man, what about?"

Roy laughs, "I think you have a rough idea."

"Wouldn't be surprised if you told me," he agrees. Jim shakes off his false bravado and clears his throat. "Look I'm sorry."

"No," Roy silences him. "You don't get to feel bad for what you put us through. We were getting married, we had our life set, and you had to ruin it by making her fall in love with you."

"I'm sorry," he repeats dropping his gaze with a wistful half smile. "But could you really blame me?"

Upstairs, Meredith sleeps at her desk.

Pam tries to keep her gaze on her monitor, but can't help but notice Dwight is staring at her from across the room. She tries to ignore it, but suddenly she's calling across the room, "What Dwight?"

"You have a very round face," he says simply. "Could even be a perfect circle."

Pam stares at him for a long moment before shaking her head. Jim's at her desk then and she looks up at him curiously. "Where have you been all day?"

Jim laughs, "Michael."

She shares his pain and hands him his messages and faxes. "He had a fat suit in that suitcase by the way," Jim says over his shoulder as he heads to his office.

"Didn't need to know," Pam says shaking her head.

"Was wearing it too."

She's laughing now. "Where did he go?"

Jim turns slowly, "The warehouse," he says.

Pam's face falls.

Before there's time to react however, there's a woman in the lobby and she's throwing her arms open shouting "Hey!" She's beautiful, her hair the color of chestnuts that's silky and wavy around her face. She's nearly the same height as Jim even in her sneakers.

"Lisa's coming today," Jim says to the camera.

Jim's face lights up and he takes her in his arms, lifting her off her feet with a grunt before setting her back down. "It's Lisa!" He announces. "Everybody, it's Lisa!"

"And it'd everybody!" She matches his enthusiasm.

"How'd you get up here?" He asks, holding her hand then gripping her waist then holding her hand again.

"Without one of your authentic security passes?" She teases. "Let's just say the security guard has been properly coerced."

"Not what I'd like to hear," he says his eyes widening as he nods his head.

"Well telling you I slipped him five dollars isn't nearly as interesting, now is it?"

"Actually, it's interesting how cheap our security guard is," he jokes.

Lisa leans in intimately, "When do I meet Dwight?" She asks.

A conspiring grin curves his lips and he takes her hand to drag her towards Dwight's desk, whispering something in her ear before they split taking both sides of his desk. Both lean their elbows against his desk and look up at him innocently.

Dwight looks at her carefully, "Who is this?" He asks looking at Jim, "Who is she?"

"That's my girlfriend, Dwight," he explains. "And unlike yours, she's not invisible."

Angela glares at Jim.

"She's not hairy," Dwight says inspecting her. "She's hot."

Lisa looks at Jim curiously and Jim shakes his head tightly. "You want to get out of here?"

She purses her lips, "Don't have any friends here besides Dwight?"

"Nope," he shrugs his shoulders, "I'm terribly unpopular."

"Sounds like the perfect boss," she smiles. "I never liked you either."

He rolls his eyes, "Let's go," he says dragging her towards the elevator. But at reception his stops. "Oh, right, I do have one friend," he says throwing Pam a wink. "Pam Beesley, my partner in crime."

Lisa extends her hand, "I think we speak on the phone more than you and I do," she says. "Nice to put a face to a voice, huh?"

"Quite," Pam says shyly.

"We're going to get some lunch, so hold my calls while I'm gone," he instructs. "That sounded official right?"

"Sure Mister Halpert," Pam says rolling her eyes. She frowns as she watches them stand in the lobby waiting for the elevator. And it feels like somebody punches her in the chest when Jim leans over to kiss her.

Kelly's at reception now watching the scene and when Pam looks up to address her, Kelly shakes her head and says, "What a great girl, for Jim."

Pam furrows her brows and then nods her head, "She seemed nice."

Kelly laughs, "Oh my God you must hate her so much!"

Pam narrows her eyes and picks up a pile of faxes, walking away incredulously.

Kelly smiles at the camera.

Angela is listing some complaints to Toby with arms folded across her chest. Her final one is, "Jim is mean to Dwight."

Toby crosses the last complaint out. "You can't complain on someone else's behalf," he explains.

The color drains form Angela's already pale complexion, "Oh."

Jim's car pulls into the parking lot, and Lisa gets out abruptly. He gives her a helpless look and she heads back to her own vehicle. He bends over the driver's window and kisses her forehead before watching her as she rolls up the window and drives away.

At reception, Pam searches through games on the Mini Clip website. Jim moves her chair over and crouches down in front of her computer. "I have to show you something," he says taking control of the mouse.

"Where's Lisa?" She asks.

"She had to go back to Connecticut," he explains.

"She drove over three hours for a lunch date?" She says skeptically.

"Yeah, weird, huh?" Jim says shaking his head with a shrug.

"Lisa and I didn't work out," Jim explains to the camera. "She wasn't going to leave her job in Connecticut, and I certainly wasn't going to leave my job here. It was just too much of a struggle playing phone tag, and we deserved better than that."

Jim goes to a penguin website and logs Pam in as 'pbeesley' and shows her around an igloo town. "So instead of buzzing me, you say, 'Michael's on the line'," he explains as the message shows up in a quote bubble above the penguin.

"That's ridiculous," Pam teases.

"Don't you dare say that penguin communication is ridiculous, because it is cutting edge technology," he replies incredulously.

"Did you break up with Lisa because of Pam?" The cameraman asks.

Jim stares at him for a long moment before shaking his head, "I'm not going to answer that."


	6. Last Call

A/N: You know the term "imitation is the highest form of flattery," and not "imitation is just an excuse to be lazy?" Well I implemented that in this chapter by blatantly ripping off the UK version of the office twice. You'll catch onto them quick if you've seen the series, but if you haven't, it's all 100 percent original and creative. This is in fact the final chapter of this story, and I still can't believe I cracked out 20,000 words in that time, even though 5,000 of them were "looks at the camera" or "Creed." I just wanted to thank all the readers for their awesome feedback because I was really trying hard to recreate the show and according to you all, I actually did, which is you know: awesome. I would keep going, but then I'd never finish and we'd be left with a cliffhanger like "Pam sleeps at Roys as Jim drives to Stamford" and I'll be in the backyard trying to dig myself out but then take a nap and nothing will get solved. Okay, this message was longer than I thought it would be… enjoy!

**Where Would I Be?**

_Chapter Five: Last Call_

"Today are performance reviews," Jim explains to the camera, "which means that I actually have to do work." Jim smiles tightly and twiddles a pen between his fingers. "I wonder if I can get Dwight to do it."

"Kevin," Jim begins looking through his reports. "Your performance has been cuddly."

Kevin laughs for a moment and then suddenly stops. "What does that mean?"

He didn't think an elaboration would be required. "Keep up the good work," Jim explains.

Meredith is in Jim's office next and he seems to be fighting for the appropriate words. "Well your performance has been good to an extent," he begins. "I'm just a little worried about other aspects…" he sighs.

Meredith furrows her brows, "What aspects exactly?"

Jim sighs heavily, sifting through the papers on his desk. "I'm not supposed to interfere with employees' personal lives but…" he sets a brochure on the edge of his desk. The camera catches the words "12 Steps," Meredith only stares.

"I think it's pretty obvious how your performance has been," Jim begins looking at his next report. "I mean this stationary? It's hideous."

Pam laughs.

"And your penmanship?" He continues. "This isn't seventh grade, Beesley. You're not passing notes to your BFF about how ridiculously good looking your boss is."

Suddenly Pam isn't laughing anymore. Her eyes catch the camera and then quickly drop to her hands. Jim's grin disappears as well and he presses his lips together and flips the page.

Angela is now sitting in the chair that Pam has vacated. Jim looks up from his report and then back down. He repeats this gesture a few more times, never actually speaking.

"There are some people in this office that I am afraid of," Jim explains to the camera. "Terrified of even."

"Your performance has been very good," Jim says with a nod. "Very good." He reads a little closer, "There is one thing…" he looks up to catch Angela's glare and flinches. "Never mind, that was just a little dust," he blows on the paper. "Just some dust, nothing at all."

"I don't know why nobody at work ever finds anything to judge me on," Angela shrugs. "Every week at church I can list at least fifteen transgressions that I need to be forgiven for." She pauses for a moment, "Well, it's not fifteen different things, more like two or three. Some of my sins have become habits that are hard to break."

Jim has had a pizza delivered and is opening up a soda when Dwight walks in.

"I've been highly anticipating Dwight's performance review," Jim informs the camera. "And I'm estimating it will last at least an hour and a half."

"Pizza?" He offers.

Dwight is too busy setting up his presentation. "I," he begins, "am Dwight K. Schrute."

"I know who you are, Dwight," Jim says dryly.

"I have been a regional salesman for the past seven years," Dwight continues pointing to a chart that displays "Dwight's Work Career." Jim notes the different stages including 'Daycare Supervisor' from age 2 through 5, 'Teacher Assistant' from ages 5 through 8, 'Animal Care and Training' from age 8 to 9, 'Hall Monitor' age 10 to 13, 'Library Assistant' age 13 to 16, 'Beet Farm Manager' age 17 to present.

"Hold up Dwight, hold up," Jim interrupts. "How do you intend on working to your fullest potential here at Dunder Mifflin, if you're juggling us with the rigorous job of beet farming?"

Dwight holds up a finger and with a voice eerily similar to Ron Popeil says, "Funny you should ask." The next chart is a pie chart. "Although the hours of my day are divide as such—," Jim narrows his eyes at the 17 percent section dedicated simply to 'Girlfriend.' Dwight quickly switches slides, "I have listed the relationships between beet farming and sales."

Jim reads over it and chuckles, "You forgot one, Dwight."

"No I didn't," he says looking over the board carefully.

"Forgot, works with 'hoes,'" Jim says biting back a laugh.

"That's not funny," Dwight says sternly.

Jim takes a deep breath. "Okay, taking your presentation into consideration as well as your performance over the past quarter, we are offering you an 8 percent pay increase," Jim says reviewing the form.

"What?" Dwight asks incredulously.

"I said I'm giving you a raise," Jim says chocking out the words. "I did not think that would be so hard to say," he mumbles.

Dwight grins, "Thanks, Jim."

"Yes, I gave Dwight a raise," Jim confesses. "Sales are up, we just signed a contract with the county over, things are looking pretty good for this branch, so we came into a little extra money and I was able to give a few employees a pay increase and Dwight just happened to be one of them." He bows his head, scratches behind his ear and looks back at the camera. "Just… don't tell anyone, okay?"

"And then," Kelly continues her story to Jim. "I bought a new shirt, but I had to return it because the sleeves were way too short, but they weren't short enough at the same time, you know? It was like too short for long sleeve but not long enough for 3/4 sleeves, kind of like 5/8 sleeves."

Jim purses his lips and stares dully at his desk. "5/8 sleeves are shorter than 3/4," he says flatly.

"Okay then," Kelly rolls her eyes, "7/8 sleeves."

"Better," he says, puffing out his cheeks simply out of boredom. "Look Kelly, when I asked if you had any questions or comments I meant about your job… or the company…"

"I get it," she says a flirty smile spreading across her lips. "You want to talk about Pam don't you?" Jim frowns. "Don't worry, I won't tell anybody about it I swear!"

"I actually meant paper."

"Oh," Kelly looks dumbfounded for a moment. "Doesn't paper just make you want to kill yourself sometimes?"

Michael enters the office and holds a hand up to cover the camera. "No pictures please," he says in a very serious tone. He takes down his hand then laughs pointing to the camera, "Ha! I got you for a second didn't I?"

"My job as manager supervisor," Michael begins to the camera, "is to come around during review periods and to review the manager of each branch. Due to one of the regional managers of the past, we now have a rubric to judge their performance, and it's my job to administer this 'pop quiz' if you will." He thinks about it for a moment. "Well it's not really a pop quiz because they know it's coming…" he taps his chin with his finger. "Hold on, I'll come up with a better analogy." He continues to sit thoughtfully occasionally mouthing words before shaking his head, "Just cut that part."

"Let's see," Michael begins touching his pen to his tongue. "Mmm," he says licking the pen again, "that metal taste is not bad at all."

Jim just stares at Michael blankly.

"Okay, name, James Halpert, first question over and done with," Michael says scratching his name across the form. "Branch. Scranton, Pennsylvania. Well Jim, looks like you're doing great so far!"

Jim smiles tightly, "Yep, once I got the name and location thing down, it was all smooth sailing."

"Ha! The jokes! Did you get the jokes?" He asks the camera. "Sadly the sense of humor jokes were omitted from the final copy of the review rubric," Michael says, "for undisclosed reasons." He scans a little further, "Role models of mine include…" Michael doesn't hesitate, "Michael Scott… FDR, Franklin David Roosevelt that is… who else do you admire… John Lennon's a good one," he says jotting it down.

Jim doesn't even bother to correct him and only nods helplessly.

"My greatest strength…" Michael reads off, "I am the Zach Morris of the office."

Jim presses his lips together, furrows his brows, and cocks his head.

"Okay, now that we have the preliminary stuff filled out, let's move on to the multiple choice." Michael turns the page. "Alright, question one. Over the past business quarter, my company has performed: a, above expectations. b, at expectations. c, below expectations." Michael scratches his head, "This is actually very poorly worded," he admits. "Because we don't know what the expectations are… okay, we're going to have to reword that one."

Jim rests his head in his hand and nods.

Michael gets up and goes behind Jim's desk, "Okay I think I have the document in my e-mail account," he says leaning over Jim awkwardly as he takes control of his computer. Jim widens his eyes to the camera.

"Do you?" Jim points to his chair, "Do you want me to move?"

"No, no, it's fine," Michael says, his face dangerously close to Jim's. Jim continues to stare into the camera. "My company… well that's all wrong to begin with, let's change that to branch."

Jim taps his hands against his armrest, "You know what, I'd really feel more comfortable over there," he points to the other side of the desk. "It'll be easier if we have the positions switched, with you at the desk, and me over there," he says pointing even farther across the office.

"When I give a performance review," Michael begins to the camera. "I want to get every gritty detail. It's like being on _Oprah_ or you know _Last Call with Carson Daly_, I want my guest to open up to me and spill their darkest secrets and find something out about themselves that they've never seen before and a couple of tears should be common." He takes a deep breath and nods his head, "It's just so touching to really connect with these people on a spiritual level."

"How does that help their performance exactly?" The cameraman asks.

"Um," Michael considers it for a moment. "The role model aspect of it, I guess."

Jim is on the couch now as Michael continues to read on intently. "Tell me if this sounds right," Michael says squinting at the monitor. "On a scale of one to ten, I feel my branch has reached a blank for potential."

Jim frowns, "I'm not quite sure what this 'blank' is."

Michael cocks his head thoughtfully and looks back at the monitor. "Hmm… I can't remember where I was going with that."

"Why don't we just skip the first one," Jim suggests.

"Thinks on his feet!" Michael says. "I like that. That is definitely going in the report."

Jim folds his arms across his chest and tries to stay awake.

"Question two…"

Angela and Dwight are in the kitchen. Angela makes a mug of tea while Dwight burrows through the fridge in search of his lunch. "I got that raise," he says. "You know what that means."

Angela smiles.

"Me and Ryan totally got back together," Kelly announces to the camera. "It was really romantic too. He was like 'We should really be together' and I was like 'I knew you were a really great guy.'"

"Kelly told me she was pregnant," Ryan explains. He runs his fingers through his hair and shuts his eyes tightly. It's obvious he hasn't slept in a few days and as he turns his wide eyes back to the camera he says, "I have no idea what I'm going to do."

"I don't know, I could be," she shrugs. "I haven't taken a test."

In Jim's office, Michael is still trying to straighten the kinks out of his questionnaire. "Do you think I should use 'him slash her' or just use 'they?'"

Jim's now laying down, resting his head on the armrest. "You have your objects and subjects mixed up," he says despairingly.

"Women are not objects, Jim," Michael says shaking his head in disgust. "You know what? We'll just get back to that one too. Question three…"

Jim considers various forms of suicide with Venetian blinds.

Creed sits at his desk typing out a report. Toby approaches sipping on a mug of coffee. He's about to say something but instead shakes his head and walks away. The camera zooms in on the photo of Toby's daughter, Sasha and then widens the shot to reveal it is in fact Toby's desk.

"That's really selfless," Pam says fighting back laughter.

Kevin and Oscar look at Angela's empty desk. "Where'd she go?" Kevin asks.

Oscar only shrugs.

Michael is munching on pizza while Jim sleeps on the couch. "What's the word?" Michael says snapping his fingers as if the word is waiting to appear in a puff of smoke. "The word when things are running smoothly and stuff is getting done…" he continues to ponder it. "Starts with an 'e'…"

"Efficiency," Jim mumbles.

"Exactly," Michael says pointing excitedly. "Look at this guy go!"

On the way to Creed's desk, Toby glances curiously at Ryan. "You okay there?" He asks.

Ryan is staring ahead almost catatonically and only shakes his head in response. Toby presses his lips together and continues walking.

"I try to only listen to people's problems when they seek me out," Toby explains. "I just don't like getting into people's faces."

Pam is jotting down a message as she nods her head. She gets out of her chair and heads over to Jim's office. She pauses to let Angela cross her path and notices something flicker on her left hand. Pam turns to the camera with wide eyes 'Oh my God!' she mouths.

She enters Jim's office still reeling what she's just seen and shakes her head to gather her composure. "Michael," she says catching a brief wave of déjà vu when she spots him at his old desk. "Jan called. She said the managers can just fax their self review with the rest of the performance reviews."

Michael frowns, "Where's the fun in that?"

"She said you took too long at the other branches and that the managers were complaining."

"What?" Michael says incredulously. "You're not complaining are you Jimothy?"

Pam, Michael and the cameraman look down at a sleeping Jim. "Mmm," he mumbles.

"You know what, he's had a long day," Michael excuses, "so I'm not going to mention narcolepsy on his performance review."

Michael has left Jim's office, but Jim remains sleeping on the couch. Pam looks at the camera and then crouches down beside him. "Hey," she says nudging him a bit.

He grumbles a bit in response and she can't help but think how adorable he looks with one arm draped over his head and the other across his stomach. Pam grins at the camera and then nudges him again. "Hey," she repeats.

He doesn't open his eyes, but she can tell he's almost awake because a tired smile is spreading across his lips. His hand reaches for hers and he laces their fingers. "Hi," he says groggily brushing his lips against her fingers.

Pam looks towards the camera warily and Jim suddenly remembers that they're at work and in his office and that there's a cameraman right behind him watching his every move and snatches his hand away.

Jim swallows thickly and runs his hands through his hair. "Where'd Michael go?" He asks scanning around the room.

"He went back to New York," Pam explains. "It's 5:30 so everyone's leaving, I though I'd let you know."

"Yeah," he nods, "okay thanks."

Pam rocks on her heels and stares at the camera uncomfortably. "Well I'm going to head out too," she says finally. "Have a good weekend."

"You too," he says letting out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"I fell asleep watching TV last night," Jim explains to the camera, "and I guess dreams sort of carried over and I thought that…" he trails off and looks out the window towards reception. The camera quickly whips around to catch his gaze, and then back at Jim who is pulling his microphone from his shirt. "Um, I'll be right back," he says darting out of the door.

Pam is slipping on her jacket and is startled when Jim runs up to her. "Hey can I talk to you for a minute?"

She looks worried at first, but her expression quickly turns to curiosity when he reaches behind her back to flip off her microphone.

He nods his head over his shoulder and she follows after him until they reach the ladder up to the roof. The film crew frantically hooks up their boom microphone and chase after them.

It's mid-January and the sun has long been engulfed by the clouds. There are patches of tar and sand covered snow in the parking lot and it's obvious that a batch of fresh snow is on the way as flakes begin to fall from the sky. Their feet crunch over the icy remnants of snow and suddenly she's terrified that she'll miss her footing and slide all the way to the edge of the roof. Certainly would be an interesting end to her story though, she thinks to herself.

Jim shoves his hands in his pocket and watches as his breath clouds around his face like he's smoking a cigarette. Suddenly he's twelve again pushing out air in thin streams to look cool to those who pass by. But then he realizes that he's stalling. That he's been stalling for the past four years. Granted the first three she had promised herself to someone else, but now the window was open, the door was unlocked and left open ajar, and there was a key on the banister just in case. "I know we're dancing around something here," he begins.

She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. Her eyes meet his and then fall back to the rooftop. "I was just wondering if you…" She says abruptly, her voice forced as she realizes that this was all harder than she had initially anticipated. Pam looks at her hands and studies them carefully. "What you said all that time ago," she continues. "I was wondering if you still meant it."

"The…" he flashes a quick half grin. "Over here thing?"

"Yeah," she nods shyly.

"Yeah, definitely," he confirms anxiously as if it were the only thing on his mind. "Definitely," he repeats.

"Okay, good," she says trying to keep her tone casual but suddenly she's smiling and laughing at herself. "Because I do too… or am too," she corrects herself. "And it took me a long time to realize that and then it was too late…"

He shakes his head and takes a step closer, slipping her hand into his, "It could never be too late." His other hand cups her cheek as their foreheads touch and the moonlight glistens across the icy surface in such a beautiful way that the boom mike operator pats the cameraman on the back for capturing such a shot.

Back in Jim's office, Jim picks up his microphone and with a grin says, "Yeah, I'd have to say it's been a pretty good day."

From his office window, the camera watches as Jim helps Pam into her car, tapping on the roof a few times before she pulls out of her spot. He walks over to his own car door and turns back to the office, offering a wave towards the window before ducking into the car and driving away.


End file.
